


Heaven Can Wait

by Selenay



Series: The Demon and the Librarian [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But Phil gets it anyway, Clint Barton does not use his words, Demon Clint Barton, Injury Recovery, Librarian Phil Coulson, M/M, tail porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: Battling the hordes of hell isn't easy to recover from, even for a demon, but the rewards of getting through are worth the pain.Yes, they have sex. At last. Eventually.(Last in the series.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Chaneen for beta-ing and Ameri-picking this. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thanks also to the people who have followed and read this so patiently, for more years than I ever meant to make you wait. I had so much fun writing this series and reading your comments and speculation on what would happen next. Who knew what one tiny little three-sentence prompt would grow into? I figure this part is the reward for everyone who stayed with me on this. Enjoy Clint's tail!

Warm morning sunlight poured across Phil's bed, striping across Clint's red skin and glinting off the horns peeking through his spiky hair. He was sleeping, sprawled on his back, with the covers pushed down to his waist to expose acres of beautiful naked skin. 

Phil was trying not to worry, but Clint had been asleep for three days, only waking long enough to stumble to the bathroom and back to bed again.

He hadn't even stayed awake long enough to eat anything, although he had roused a few times when Phil prodded him into drinking. Phil didn't know enough about demon anatomy to know whether they could get dehydrated, but he figured that if Clint had some human blood in him, then there was probably a risk. The only hopeful sign was that Clint's tattoo, which had been a barely visible silver at first, had darkened with each passing hour and was now its usual rich black.

Nobody had been able to tell Phil exactly what Clint had done in Central Park, only that it had been big and it was a miracle Clint had survived it. At the time, they'd all been too relieved about being alive to examine the means of their survival. Phil didn't know what had happened to the demon summoners they'd managed to capture alive, or what had happened to the bodies of the people, on both sides, who hadn't made it. All he'd been able think about at that point was the semi-conscious demon in his arms. 

Steve and Thor had helped Phil to get Clint to one of the SUVs, which had pulled up just as the first group of exhausted magic users reached West Drive, and they'd climbed in after him for the ride to the apartment. By the time they reached the building, Steve and Thor had needed to carry Clint upstairs, his arms slung over their shoulders.

Thankfully, they hadn't met any of the other tenants on the way up. Phil wasn't sure how he would have explained two large men carrying his mostly-unconscious, nearly naked demon roommate up the stairs.

Steve and Thor had put Clint on the bed. Phil had needed to reassure them three times that he could take it from there before they left.

He hadn't seen or heard from anyone since.

For the first day, he hadn't cared. He'd been sleeping as hard as Clint, exhausted from the magic use and the fight coming so soon after his trip to Hell.

On the second day, he'd still been tired, but he'd wandered around the apartment taking care of every scrap of housework and all the odd jobs he could think of. Despite his attempts to keep himself busy and not worry, he'd still checked on Clint every few minutes, and there had been a stomach churning disappointment each time.

Not worrying about the man he'd grown to care about--possibly too much--who was still barely rousable, was impossible.

Now, on the third day of Clint's hibernation, Phil was sitting by the bed watching for any sign that he would wake up. Every small movement, every flutter of his eyelashes, had Phil's heart racing as he waited for Clint to open his eyes and finally look at him with some awareness of his surroundings.

To pass the time, Phil was reading out loud. He didn't know whether Clint could hear him, but he'd picked out a book from the stash he'd hidden in his closet, anyway. The books had been an impulse buy a few days before Barney walked into their lives, a gift that he'd almost second guessed himself on multiple times. He still hadn't decided when would be a good time to actually give them to Clint.

Phil refused to admit that he'd been hoping Clint would still be around for Christmas.

Giving them to him now, though, seemed like the right time. So Phil had been reading _Wyrd Sisters_ out loud for the last two hours, because Clint had declared weeks ago that it was his favourite. Something about Granny Weatherwax being a badass. Phil was starting to understand it.

He turned a page and swallowed to moisten his throat. Reading out loud was harder work than it looked. " _'Never trust a man with horns on his hat,' said Granny flatly._ "

"How about horns on his head?" a raspy voice said.

Phil's heart seemed to miss a beat. He slowly lifted his eyes.

Clint's smile was weak and crooked, but it was real, and his eyes were clear and sensible for the first time. "Hi."

"Good morning," Phil said, surprised when his voice came out shakier and hoarser than he'd expected. "Hello."

"Hi," Clint said, again. After a long pause, he added, "So, about the man with horns on his head?"

Phil allowed himself to smile. "He saved the world three days ago. I trust him."

"Yeah, I kind of did save the world, didn't I?" Clint's smile widened. "Shit, I'm a demon and I saved the world. How insane is that?"

"You're half human," Phil said. "I don't think your heritage matters, though."

Clint shrugged one shoulder. "I saved the world for selfish reasons. It's got you in it. Can't let the world go to hell--literally--when there's someone it in who wouldn't survive that, can I?"

"Um," Phil said intelligently.

"Fuck. Didn't meant to say that." Clint pouted. "Magic overload makes me fuzzy and weird, okay?"

"I don't mind you saying it," Phil said. "It sounded nice."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Definitely not."

"Huh." Clint yawned. "Shit, I'm still tired. But I'm hungry. I hate magic overload."

"I could make you some soup," Phil said.

"And then could you read some more?" Clint asked.

"Possibly."

Clint grinned, wide and happy, and Phil couldn't help smiling back. He didn't even worry too much about how easily Clint had agreed to soup instead of pizza. Magic overload was probably a bitch to get over, even for half-demons.

***

Fury called on Phil while Clint was in the shower late in the afternoon. Phil decided not to think too carefully about how convenient it was that Fury knocked at the door just as Phil heard the shower turn on. That way would lead to madness.

He made a mental note to check the wards, though, and maybe research some extra privacy spells. Turning the apartment into a fortress, a sealed bubble from the world, might be overkill, but after the last few weeks, overkill seemed like exactly the right level of kill.

Phil cut that thought off before it could get any more tangled and answered the door.

Fury scowled at him. He looked out of place in the cream-painted hallway in front of Phil's apartment. It was the long leather coat, maybe, or the black suit and shirt. Or the eyepatch. Or, really, the entire combination standing out unsettlingly in Phil's nice, safe, rent-controlled apartment building. The vase of dried flowers on a stand behind him only made the scene more surreal.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Fury asked.

Phil stepped back quickly. "Of course."

Fury peered around interestedly as he entered the apartment and made a bee-line for the couch. "Nice place you've got, Phil. Very secure. Have you considered putting a few of those wards on the library?"

"I wasn't sure if I still had a job there," Phil said. "That seemed to be something you were thinking about the last time we spoke."

Fury grunted. "That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before you and your demon demonstrated your loyalty," Fury said. "You probably didn't notice, but half the library board was in Central Park. They saw what you did. Nobody's calling for your resignation yet, although they might if you sulk in here for much longer."

"I'm not sulking," Phil said. "We're recovering."

"Where is the demon?" Fury asked.

Phil jerked his head towards the bathroom door, where the sound of the shower--and some surprisingly tuneful singing--could be heard. "He only woke up this morning."

"I'm amazed he survived that crazy-ass stunt he pulled," Fury said. "Nobody else would have."

"He has a tendency to surprise people." Phil felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, and he bit the inside of his lip until it went away. "I got the impression that a few of your people wouldn't have minded if he didn't survive."

"Yeah, well, leave them to me. They're your people, too, now. I'm trying to get the magic users in this city organised. Make sure nothing like this happens again."

Phil raised his eyebrows. "Really? Is that even possible?"

Fury chuckled. "It'll be like herding cats, but I've been looking for a challenge for a while. And having a group of demon summoners almost destroy the world should focus a few people who have been resisting the idea of joining forces. I thought we could base some of our work out of your library. That occult section has some interesting works in it."

"Most of our patrons aren't magic users," Phil said. "Half the staff aren't, either, unless you've been holding out on me. Is that really practical?"

"I'm not turning the entire library into some kind of secret magical army, Phil. Just arranging a few meetings, getting everyone together and organised so we all know each other."

"That's all?"

Fury shrugged. "For now."

"You're planning something," Phil said. "Something big."

"Of course I am," Fury said. "But we've got to start somewhere."

"'We'?"

"You're the head of the New York Central Library," Fury said. "If you still want the job. But if you stay, your position is going to change a little. I'm going to need you to be my man on the ground, handling the everyday side of this thing I'm putting together. Think you can handle that?"

"What happens to Clint?" Phil asked. "Can he keep working at the library?"

"Is it a deal breaker if he can't?"

Phil didn't have to think. "Yes, it is. He's good at what he does there. The staff like and respect him. He's an asset to the library, and I'd have to hire a replacement for him, if the library is going to be getting busier."

"Think he'd be a part of the group I'm putting together?"

"I can ask him," Phil said. "He'll probably say yes, but I can't order him to do it."

"You can, you know."

"I know, but I wouldn't."

Fury nodded. "Good. If he agrees to join us, I'll put him on the permanent staff at the library. The board will back me. Enough of them to get his salary put through, anyway."

"Thank you," Phil said.

"Don't thank me," Fury said. "This project is probably going to consume any free time you used to have. It could get dangerous. You're going to have to be part of the magical community, and I know you've been trying to stay out of that for years. I'm destroying your life."

Phil glanced at the bathroom, before focusing on Fury again. "With all due respect, Nick, I don't think so."

Fury snorted, but his wide grin betrayed him, and Phil smiled back.

***

Phil was sitting on the sofa, cradling a cup of coffee, when Clint emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of citrus-scented steam. He was wearing his human face, and Phil had a moment's disappointment. He'd grown to appreciate the horned-and-tailed version a lot.

Maybe too much.

Clint was wearing his human face and a towel, and nothing else. Apparently he'd forgotten--probably deliberately, knowing him--the minimum clothing standards rule for the apartment.

Phil was quietly relieved that Fury had left a few minutes ago. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was more involved with a demon than he should be, but he suspected that Fury wouldn't be happy to have the truth thrust in his face. There was a difference between discussing Clint's potential permanent place in the library and Phil's life, and seeing the damp golden proof of it strutting around in a towel that was just a little too short.

Not that Clint was really strutting right now. He loped over to the sofa and flopped down next to Phil, with no regard for the sanctity of the dry upholstery against his dripping hair.

He also stole Phil's coffee.

Phil was sure he should feel annoyed by one of those things. He couldn't seem to conjure up even a small streak of mild irritation.

"What did Fury want?" Clint asked after he'd taken a deep gulp of coffee.

"How did you know he was here?"

Clint gave him a deeply unimpressed look. "Demon, remember?"

"That excuse will wear thin, soon."

"Never going to stop being true, though."

Phil took back the mug Clint offered him, and peered into it suspiciously. There seemed to be more coffee left than there should be. "I guess it won't. He wanted to offer me a job."

"Don't you already have a job?"

"He wanted to offer that job to me again, because it wasn't entirely clear whether I still had it a couple of days ago." Phil sipped some coffee. It tasted better than what he usually made. "He wanted to offer me another job, too."

"What kind of job?"

Phil raised both eyebrows. "The kind that's hard to talk about when you're naked."

"You and I have very different definitions of naked."

"A towel doesn't count."

"You can't see anything important."

It would have taken a stronger man than Phil to resist the temptation to let his gaze roam, very deliberately, up and down the entire length of Clint's mostly naked body. Intriguingly, a hint of pink spread across Clint's throat. Phil almost--almost--set the mug aside and let himself get distracted from the conversation.

"House rules," Phil said instead.

He sometimes hated his sense of duty.

Clint sighed, but there was a shimmer around him and, when it cleared, he was wearing a pair of purple silk boxers and an old t-shirt that Phil definitely remembered last seeing at the back of his closet. The hole in the hem was distinctive.

"Better?" Clint asked.

"For now," Phil said.

A wide grin appeared. "So what I'm taking from this, is that later could--"

"He offered you a job, too," Phil said, before Clint could say anything that would completely derail his thought processes. "A permanent one."

Clint blinked. "Huh?"

"There's a job at the library for you," Phil said. "Doing what you've been doing so far, maybe learning a few new skills. An assistant librarian position. It's paid and you'd have benefits, for as long as you want it. If you want it."

"Um," Clint said.

"You saved the world. The least I could do is make sure you don't starve if you stay here."

Clint frowned. "You'd never let me starve."

"Of course not," Phil said. "But this way, you're not completely reliant on me for your food and a roof over your head. You have more choices."

The sound of Clint swallowing seemed unnaturally loud. He blinked again, and again, and Phil didn't want to look too closely to find out why.

"Shit," Clint said eventually, his voice shaking. "Shit, Phil."

"Obviously, I'd like it if you stayed here," Phil said. "You know I would. But I don't want you to be here out of some sense of...obligation, or lack of options. You should have choices."

"I'm a demon," Clint said. "We don't get those."

"Well, now you do," Phil said.

"Shit."

Phil was surprised to find that his hand was shaking when he tried to raise the mug to his lips. They'd already talked about the future, in a way, but something about this, about giving Clint the choice and means to leave him, it felt bigger than that talk had. It was about more than whether they were going to have sex and whether Clint was ready to deal with feelings he'd never been allowed to have before.

It was about where they went next. What happened after that, after they inevitably did all the things they'd been building to for weeks.

"Did you have to make some kind of deal with Fury for this?" Clint asked.

Phil had been debating how to answer that question since Fury left. Clint was intelligent and frighteningly observant; he was always going to ask.

"I told him that my staying depended on whether he offered you a job," Phil said, and continued straight over the objections Clint tried to make. "I think he'd already planned to do it, anyway. He gave in too quickly."

"What if he hadn't?"

Phil shrugged. "He wants to organise the magic users in the city, so we don't grow another potential apocalypse under our noses without noticing. You're one of the most powerful beings he's got access to. He needs you on his side, if he's going to make this work. Fury didn't need me to make him see that. I think he was always going to make you an offer, even if I hadn't said anything."

Clint stole the mug and slurped a large gulp of coffee. "He asked you to head up this organised group of magic users, didn't he?"

"Just the day to day parts," Phil said. "He wants to use the library as a base."

"You're a good choice," Clint said.

"Oh?"

"You don't belong to any of the factions," Clint said. "That makes you kind of neutral."

"I summoned a demon."

Clint shrugged and held out the mug. "Everyone has a moment of total brilliance that intimidates people. It kind of makes you perfect for the job, actually."

Phil accepted the mug. There was definitely too much coffee in it now. "I'd object, except I can see how you reasoned that out, and it makes a terrifying amount of sense. I'm not sure how I feel about that, yet."

"Does it make you feel like taking Fury's jobs?"

"Do you think I should?"

"It's not up to me," Clint said. "I mean, if you're running things, that's probably safer than putting an asshole like Blake in charge, so there's that. I guess that means I do have an opinion on it. Huh. But if you want to...I don't know...run off to the Bahamas and becoming a beach bum, I couldn't stop you."

"It would eat into my free time," Phil said. "The extra job, I mean."

"I know." Clint sighed. "Guess I'll just have to find a whole new series of books to read while I wait to take you home from work."

A small bubble of warmth rose in Phil's chest. "You'd do that?"

"Maybe," Clint said. "Depends on whether there's anything good on TV. Watching you order people around is probably going to be hot, but I'm not sure how it stacks up against a Dog Cops marathon."

"Poorly," Phil said.

Clint titled his head, considering. "If you're giving orders and wearing those glasses, I might be willing to tape it."

Phil touched the thick frame of his glasses self-consciously. "Um."

Clint smile wickedly. "You should wear them all the time."

"Not if you're going to look at me like that," Phil said. "People will talk."

"People have been talking ever since you handed me a shelving cart and announced I was sleeping on your sofa."

"I didn't announce. I--"

"I'll take the job," Clint said quickly.

Phil's protest stuttered to an end. His tongue felt tangled in his teeth.

"I want the job," Clint repeated. "And I want to stay here, with you, like we talked about. The whole salary and benefits deal isn't exactly my thing, but I guess I can see your point."

"You do need to eat," Phil said.

"Not having money has never kept me from eating."

Phil peered down into his strangely full coffee cup again. "Where do you get the Froot Loops and this coffee from?"

"Around."

Phil narrowed his eyes. "Around where?"

"Um." Clint's grin turned sheepish. "Demon?"

"I shouldn't have asked, should I?"

"I guess I'll have to pay for shit now," Clint said. "Like a human."

"It might be nice."

Clint sighed heavily. "How soon do I get paid?"

"Probably not for a couple of weeks."

"Are you hungry?"

Phil didn't bother to hide his smile. "Is this your way of asking me to order pizza?"

"Only if you're hungry." Clint dipped his head and looked up through his eyelashes, which was a totally unfair tactic that had Phil reaching for the phone without thinking. "I suppose I could have some more soup if you're not."

"Pizza sounds good, actually," Phil said. "Any preferences?"

"Pepperoni?" Clint asked, hopefully. "Lots of pepperoni?"

Phil rolled his eyes, but he hit the speed dial button anyway, and Clint's smile was almost too bright to look at.

***

Clint barely stayed awake long enough to eat a couple of slices of pizza before he drifted off to sleep again on the sofa. He slumped against Phil, a warm weight against Phil's shoulder, and even the Dog Cops theme didn't get his eyes opening. Phil switched over to a cooking show marathon and settled in for a couple of hours, while Clint slept peacefully.

Just before midnight, Phil slipped away to put the leftovers in the fridge, before returning and nudging Clint.

"Swuzzzah?" Clint mumbled.

Phil smiled, hoping he didn't look ridiculously sappy and fond. He suspected he did. "Time to move to bed."

"'m sleeping," Clint said without opening his eyes.

"You'll sleep more comfortably in the bed."

Clint reluctantly opened one eye, just a crack. "I slept on the sofa for months, and now you're concerned about my comfort?"

Phil shrugged, unconcerned. "A sofa isn't comfortable for two grown men."

Clint frowned. "I guess there's logic to that."

"Does that mean you'll move to the bed?"

"I guess."

Clint held up a hand, and Phil took the hint, tugging him upright and then leading him across the room to the bedroom. When Phil looked back to check, Clint's eyes were closed. The level of trust he was showing made the air catch in Phil's throat for a moment.

He even let Phil push him gently down onto the bed, face first, after Phil moved the covers aside. Phil couldn't resist leaning down to press a kiss on the back of Clint's neck, which made Clint hum drowsily before twisting around and catching Phil's lips in a sweet, sleepy kiss. It was unexpectedly chaste, not even a hint of tongue, and Phil could tell that Clint's mind wasn't on it even if his heart wanted it. The way he had to break off to yawn gave it away.

Phil pressed a last kiss to Clint's cheek before padding away to attend to his necessary pre-bedtime routine and change into sleeping clothes in the bathroom. By the time he returned, Clint was buried under the covers, apparently asleep again.

Phil closed the door quietly, and when he turned back to the bed, one corner of the covers had been lifted invitingly. He smiled and took the invitation, unsurprised when Clint immediately wrapped around him like an octopus.

Apparently, half-awake demons suffering from magic overload got clingy. Phil made a mental note.

Not that he planned for Clint to have magic overload again, but they weren't in a lifestyle where that kind of plan had any hope of sticking. At least he'd know what to expect next time.

A clingy demon with wandering hands.

Huh.

"Can we have sex tomorrow?" Clint asked, sleepily.

The wandering hand slipped a little lower, pushing under the waistband of Phil's boxers and grasping a firm handful. Phil firmly told his body to stop reacting, Clint was tired and falling into habits, and this was definitely not the time to do _that_.

His cock ignored him. Sometimes, it was very inconsiderate to his needs.

"Phil?" Clint asked. "Sex? Before my parts wither and fall off from lack of use?"

"I'm fairly sure they won't."

Clint opened one eye and peered up at Phil, expression baleful. "How do you know? How does anyone know what might happen to a human-demon-hybrid as they age? Maybe getting all worked up and not having sex over and over is really bad for me."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Phil said, trying not to smile.

Clint snorted. "You'll regret saying that if my parts do fall off."

"Maybe we can see about something tomorrow. You did seem confident that you could manage something very quick, if necessary."

The offended look in Clint's eye was priceless. "I'm not settling for a quick and dirty hand job this time. I mean, that would have been great then, if it was all we were going to get, and it sucks that we didn't get it, but our first time is worth way more than three minutes now that we've got it."

He was growing more coherent than he'd sounded a couple of minutes ago. Maybe talking about sex was waking him up. Phil wasn't sure that was a good thing, really, when he'd been so exhausted only a moment ago.

"I'm talking about slow, sweaty, mind-blowing sex," Clint continued. "The kind where you're too exhausted to do anything after. Bed-breaking sex. Orgasms forever kind of sex."

Oh. Oh.

Oh god.

That was definitely going to need a wide awake, fully energised Clint. 

Phil had to swallow twice before his voice worked. "We can do that. When you're feeling better."

"Tomorrow."

Phil sighed. "Tomorrow. Maybe."

"Awesome," Clint said, through a yawn. "Thank you."

His hand on Phil's ass squeezed just right, and he tucked his head down against Phil's shoulder again. Phil felt the moment when the soft breathing against his neck turned into soft snoring. Clint fell asleep, clutching a handful of Phil's ass as though it was a comforter.

Yeah.

It was a while before Phil managed to follow him into sleep.

***

Phil woke up with the scent of coffee filling his nose. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made coffee for him. It smelled amazing.

He slowly rolled onto his back, still unwilling to open his eyes. There was a hint of bacon underneath the coffee scent. His mouth started watering.

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see late morning sunshine streaming in through the windows. After the last few days of rest, he hadn't expected to sleep for so long. Maybe he'd been more exhausted by the fight--and the events before the fight--than he'd realised.

Maybe Clint hadn't been the only one dealing with battle fatigue.

Or, perhaps, he hadn't allowed himself to rest properly while so many things were still unsettled. Now he had reassurance about his job, Clint was no longer sleeping like a dead thing, and there was a future unfurling that he hadn't thought was possible a few days ago. The relief from everything he'd been worrying about, without realising he was worrying, had unlocked the last core of exhaustion and kept him asleep for a long time.

Thinking of Clint, Phil rolled his head to the side, but the bed was empty.

Of course.

It would be worrying if the coffee and bacon scent was filling the air while Clint was still asleep. Phil couldn't help feeling a small pang at being alone in the bed, though. Waking with Clint beside him, Clint's tail wrapped around his wrist, had been the best awakening he'd had for...he didn't know how long.

A long time.

Phil sat up and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He could hear Clint moving around in the next room, making enough noise that Phil knew it was for his benefit.

Clint was sneaky and devious, and he could move completely silently if he wanted to. He'd demonstrated that often enough.

A smile pulled at Phil's lips as he pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Clint had probably been not-very-subtly trying to wake him up for a while, if he knew Clint at all. It was some kind of minor miracle that Clint hadn't taken the direct route to whatever he wanted.

Or maybe it was unspoken gratitude for Phil letting Clint sleep for so long.

Clint was poking dubiously at the coffee maker when Phil wandered out. The coffee smelled delicious, but the machine didn't appear to be doing anything. Or at least, the lights were dead.

"So, I think maybe the coffee thing is broken," Clint said without looking around. "I know, this looks bad. I swear, it was like this when I pushed the 'on' button."

"How did the coffee get made if it's broken?" Phil asked.

Clint turned, a sheepish smile already spreading. "Um, about that."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Solemnly swear, I used the stuff you bought," Clint said. "Promise."

"You just helped it along?"

Clint shrugged. "Figured that was probably okay."

"More than okay," Phil said. "If having coffee despite a broken machine is an advantage to keeping a demon around, I'm sold."

"It's the coffee that you're here for?" Clint spread his arms. "Just the coffee? What about the rest of the package?"

Phil bit his tongue before he could blurt out the line Clint was clearly trying to feed him. It was undignified and ridiculous, and he wasn't sure he could flirt with the level of blatant innuendo Clint used without turning a shade of puce that would endanger his health.

"You know you want to say it," Clint said, grinning.

"No," Phil said.

"The world won't end if you make a dick joke," Clint said.

Phil couldn't keep his gaze from dropping, just for a moment, before he forced it back to Clint's face. "No."

"You're no fun when you're caffeine deprived and grumpy." Clint sighed and lowered his arms. "I'm making notes, okay? Notes on the correlation between your mood and your caffeine levels."

"Can I really smell bacon?" Phil asked.

"Um."

Phil frowned. "What."

"Okay, so, there's bacon," Clint said. "And, like, I was going to use the stuff in your fridge, but it had gone bad. Actually, most of the stuff in your fridge is past the use by date. I guess we've been too busy to shop lately, right? And I figured you'd be hungry, and I'm not a monster, and we're out of cereal because I ate it."

"What did you do?"

"I put money in their register," Clint said earnestly. "So that's not really stealing, is it? I paid for it."

"You hijacked bacon from a cafe, didn't you?"

"They had these fancy bacon and egg panini things," Clint said. "The bacon's all crispy and the eggs are just right. I even kept them in stasis for you, so they'd stay like that."

Phil couldn't help chuckling. "That sounds pretty good right now."

"That's what I thought."

"And you didn't technically steal them," Phil added. He narrowed his eyes. "You took the money from my wallet, didn't you?"

"Stealing from you isn't like stealing from a shop owner."

"I'll add that to my notes on demon ethics," Phil said.

"I don't think I'm that useful, if you're trying to take notes." Clint shrugged. "Pretty sure any other demon would have eviscerated the shop owner and lost interest in the panini before they were done."

"You're probably right."

"So, are you going to eat?"

"I need to wash first." Phil nodded to the bathroom. "You know."

Clint's eyes widened. "Yeah, good, no, you go ahead and do that stuff. I'll set the table or something."

When Phil returned, there was a cloth on the table that he only vaguely recognised--it had probably been in the back of a closet for years--and Clint had set out plates and cutlery that were a lot fancier than the set Phil usually used. They were the good set his mother gave him for Christmas the year after he first moved out, and he'd only used them a couple of times since.

There was even a flower in a small vase.

The vase had been in Phil's storage room since he'd moved in. The flower looked wild and there was a bit of dirt at the bottom of the water. He decided not to ask where Clint had found it. Baby steps.

"That looks good," Phil said instead. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Um." Clint carefully put out the panini, which smelled even better out of the bags. "Kind of?"

Phil smiled. "It's working."

"If I'd fed you months ago, would you have had sex with me earlier?"

"I guess we'll never know."

Clint sighed with mock defeat. "Humans are so weird."

"You're trying to seduce one. I don't think you object to our weirdnesses that much."

"Okay, point," Clint said. "Now eat."

Phil chuckled, but he sat down. His stomach rumbled as he inhaled the rich scent of bacon and eggs, and he caught the smug grin Clint sent him out of the corner of his eye. He let him have the moment. The food was very welcome, particularly if Clint expected some kind of athletic performance later.

That thought made him pause mid-bite. Athletic? He was a middle-aged librarian with a receding hairline and too many books. Athletic might be beyond him.

"Stop thinking," Clint said through a mouthful of panini.

"I wasn't--"

"Demon."

"You're reading my mind?"

Clint shook his head quickly, almost violently. "Nope, I'd never do that." He hesitated. "Okay, I haven't done that for a long time. Practically since you summoned me. But you make this face when you're worrying, and I don't know what you're worrying about this time, but it's probably not something you should be worrying about. Okay?"

"I--" Phil broke off as something warm and flexible wrapped around his ankle.

The tip of Clint's tail slid down to the arch of Phil's foot, pressing in just hard enough to feel good.

"I can tickle instead," Clint said. "You know I'd do it."

Phil rolled his eyes. "I don't doubt it. I'll stop thinking."

"Good." Clint grinned. "I can help with that, you know. Give you something else to think about. My tail's got a lot of reach, is all I'm saying."

"You should probably save that until later," Phil said. "If you make me inhale my food, we'll spend the afternoon in the ER instead of in bed."

Clint sighed. "Humans are so fragile."

"And demons are immune to choking?" Phil paused. Thought about what he'd said. "Pretend I didn't say that."

"Hey, if that's something you're into, I'm just saying. Demon. Think about it."

"Eat your panini."

***

The problem with pre-meditated sex, was knowing it was going to happen. Knowing that after he brushed his teeth or finished the dishes, there would be sex. Sex would happen. They would take off their clothes and do things together and orgasms would result.

Phil had always been much better at spontaneity. Pre-meditated sex felt too scheduled. Too planned. Sex was an organic thing that happened, not something that was scheduled for eleven AM like a class or a meeting.

Explaining this to a demon was not easy. 

Clint did, at least, grasp the concept eventually, and he didn't even pout--much--when Phil sat down on the sofa with a book after breakfast. He even sat down at the other end of the sofa with his own book, although he held it upside down and his eyes never actually dropped to the pages. It was the thought that counted.

The sneaky tail that he used in completely unfair ways to distract Phil before he got further than the opening page of his own book was definitely an unfair advantage. Although it did get Phil past his doubts about pre-meditated sex with surprising ease.

Ten minutes after sitting down to read, Phil dropped his book over the back of the sofa and stopped even pretending to resist.

When Clint had muttered sleepily about slow, mind-blowing sex, Phil hadn't understood exactly how slow, or how mind-blowing, Clint meant. He was learning fast. Or slowly, depending on the point of view. 

They'd been on the couch, kissing and touching, for hours. Maybe for days, Phil wasn't sure. Time lost all meaning the moment Clint's hand slid under the hem of Phil's t-shirt.

Although maybe days was an exaggeration. Phil was pretty sure days would kill him.

The kissing and touching phase of sex, though, was definitely lasting longer than Phil had ever imagined it could. He'd expected Clint to be pushy and impatient, moving straight to the naked part of sex without any of the foreplay. It didn't seem possible that a demon who had propositioned him within five minutes of their first meeting could take this long, and be this dedicated to kissing on the couch.

Okay, maybe it wasn't just kissing. Clint seemed to be determined to stroke and caress every inch of skin he could find without removing any clothes.

Phil was torn between impatience to get to the clothing removal, and apprehension about how long Clint would spend driving him wild after it happened.

Clint sucked another kiss at the place just below Phil's ear that made him shudder. He'd found it early in the game and seemed to really enjoy the reactions he could get.

Really, really enjoy.

Phil could feel the evidence of Clint's level of enjoyment pressing firmly against his hip. So far, Clint had pulled Phil's hand away from caressing that evidence three--no, four times.

At least it meant that Clint had some limits, too, because he appeared to be determined to push Phil to his without ever pushing him over.

Phil slid his hand up Clint's back, under his t-shirt, and dragged his nails lightly down Clint's spine. A low, startled groan rumbled against Phil's neck, and Phil smiled.

Clint had a few weak spots, too.

A moment later, though, a warm, lithe tail-tip slipped under the waistband of Phil's pants, and Phil swore under his breath as it tickled the crease of his hip.

The tail was definitely an unfair advantage. 

He said as much out loud, and Clint chuckled.

"I'm not supposed to play fair," Clint said, raising his head from where he'd been mouthing at Phil's neck. "It's not in my nature. Demon, remember?"

"So you keep reminding me." Phil forced his eyes to open. Clint's hair was mussed and his lips were slick and full, but his skin was golden brown and no horns peeked out from the messy spikes. "You don't look like one."

"You were really serious about that?"

"I really was."

Clint frowned. "You're sure this isn't some kind of demon fetish thing for you? Not that I'm going to object, but it's good to know up front."

"It's not a fetish thing," Phil said, as firmly as he could with Clint cradled between his legs. "It's a wanting-to-see-the-real-you thing."

"Talk about not playing fair," Clint grumbled.

But the gold slowly faded to red and the tips of his horns shone through his spiky hair.

"Better?" he asked.

Phil smiled. "Better."

He curled a hand around the back of Clint's neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Filthy, with a lot of tongue, which appeared to be Clint's favourite kind of kissing. Phil couldn't pretend it didn't feel amazing to him, too. Not when his hips jerked without his command as their tongues met, and his breath gusted out against Clint's cheek.

Clint made a pleased sound and pushed closer, pressing Phil down into the couch cushions. The weight of Clint's body pinning him there made the heat in his gut burn higher. He wanted to be closer than this, closer than two bodies could be, and he scrabbled at the t-shirt Clint seemed to be in no hurry to remove.

The t-shirt disappeared under Phil's hands.

Phil blinked open eyes he hadn't been aware of closing and twisted away from Clint's mouth, staring at the bare red shoulders that had been covered by grey fabric a moment ago.

"What?" he asked.

"I can put it back," Clint said.

"No!" Phil shook his head and patted the nice, bare skin under his fingers. Good skin. Conveniently naked skin. "No, you don't need to do that. It was just unexpected."

"Sorry, sometimes I cheat," Clint said. "Want me to stop?"

"Cheat as much as you want."

Phil shivered as his shoulders were suddenly exposed to the air. A thought occurred. "You haven't..."

Clint probably didn't read his mind, but apparently he could predict Phil's questions. "They're in the laundry hamper. Promise."

Phil smiled. "Thank you."

The mock pout Clint sent him looked ridiculous. "I'm not doing a good enough job at this if you can still worry about where your clothes went."

"You're doing a very good job," Phil said, earnestly. "I'm just very attached to certain t-shirts, which you keep stealing."

"You're capable of thinking," Clint said. "Therefore, I'm doing badly."

"Feel free to do something about that."

Clint grinned, and Phil's stomach did a slow roll that had nothing to do with nervousness and everything to do with anticipation. That smile promised things that Phil was sure his imagination wasn't good enough to conjure up. Filthy, amazing things that would blow his mind.

Phil scratched his fingernails through the hair at the base of Clint's neck, and Clint arched into it and made a noise that might, almost, have been a purr. If he wasn't a dignified and powerful demon, that was.

It was definitely a rumble of pleasure that derailed whatever Clint had planned for him.

The kiss that resulted was amazing, though. Hot and wet, perfectly messy. The feel of Clint's bare chest against his sent a wave of warmth and want through Phil's body. He slid his hands down Clint's back and flattened them against the smooth skin just above his hips. The temptation to dip his fingers under the waistband of Clint sweatpants was too much to resist, and Phil didn't bother to try.

He almost shoved his hand inside the sweatpants to get a good handful, but that didn't appear to be the game they were playing. Not yet.

"Fuck, you feel good," Clint said, his words muffled against Phil's shoulder.

Phil smiled and lifted his head to kiss Clint's neck, mouthing at the warm skin there. He'd never wanted to mark anyone before, but with Clint, apparently everything was different. The need to see Clint wearing evidence of what they were doing was a low urgent thing that made no sense, but he couldn't deny it was there. Clint would probably heal too quickly for a hickey to show tomorrow; Phil knew that, and he wanted it anyway.

There were so many things he didn't know about demon physiology. About how they worked, and what their limits where, and why Clint was so very...Clint. About what Clint had been able to do in Central Park, and what his tattoo meant, and why he was addicted to Froot Loops and chocolate milk.

Phil could probably write a dozen papers, just from what he'd learned so far, and there was still so much he needed to learn.

He shut that thought down before paper titles could take root in his brain. This wasn't the time.

"Are you all right?" Clint asked, raising his head.

Phil nodded. "I was thinking, sorry."

"Way to make a guy feel appreciated," Clint said. "Please tell me you weren't reciting Dewey indexes in your head or something."

Phil raised both eyebrows.

"You're such a librarian." There was a hint of warm fondness in Clint's voice. "I don't mind the Dewey reciting if it's because you're trying to keep it slow, okay? Just...not if it's more interesting than me."

Phil tightened his grip on Clint's hips and ground up against him. "I promise, it's definitely not more interesting than you."

Clint made a strangled sound at the back of his throat.

It was a gratifying response, and Phil forgot all about whatever he'd been distracted by when Clint dove down for another greedy kiss.

If this was what being loved by a half-demon was like, Phil didn't think he'd ever be able to give it up. Deep, drugging kisses, the kind that made him pant and twitch and _want_ with a ferocity he couldn't comprehend. They were addictive, leaving him craving more every time they parted to catch their breath or get distracted by kissing throats and necks.

Phil arched up when Clint kissed a path down his chest, scrabbling at the smooth fabric of the sofa to keep himself from grabbing Clint's head and pushing him where he wanted. Clint had taken enough orders over his lifetime; Phil wanted this to be about Clint choosing what he did.

Thankfully, Clint's choices felt amazing. The wet heat of his mouth over a nipple, the gentle graze of teeth over Phil's belly; Clint might not be reading his mind, but he could read Phil's body like one of his books. He found all the places that made Phil shudder and gasp, and the soft hum of approval each time he discovered a new thing he could do only made Phil's need burn higher.

Clint kissed the skin above the waistband of Phil's pants and looked up. There was a wicked smile hovering at the corners of his mouth and his eyebrows rose in a question, his hands twitching the fabric lower.

Phil started to say something, but a thought occurred and he shook his head. "Not yet."

Clint pouted. "If you need to think about Dewey numbers to control yourself..."

"It's not that." Phil reached down and took Clint's hand, tugging gently. "Come up here."

Rearranging themselves on the sofa wasn't easy, but Phil managed to get Clint sprawled on his stomach somehow. The sofa felt deeper than he remembered it being a few minutes ago. He was able to straddle Clint's hips without slipping off sideways.

He decided not to question the physics of his living room furniture for now. It was working for them, and it meant they didn't have to walk to the bed.

The tattoo stood out against Clint's red skin, stark black with edges too defined to have come from any human tattooist. Phil reached out tentatively and stroked a finger along the narrow point at the base of Clint's neck. It felt like warm flesh, but there was a slight ridge to it, as though the tattoo had been placed on his skin instead of marked into it.

He traced the line as it flared out across Clint's shoulder blades, flattening his palms across the wide expanse of skin to feel the raised lines and whorls against them. He rubbed his thumbs up and down the intricate vines marching down Clint's spine, and Clint sighed.

"Is this all right?" Phil asked.

"Very all right," Clint said, sounding breathless.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Clint said. "I was born with it."

"Are other demons...?"

Clint shrugged, muscles rippling under Phil's hands. "I've never looked that closely."

Phil opened his mouth to ask, but he shut it again quickly. Maybe he'd ask the question one day, but now wasn't the right time.

He leaned down, instead, and pressed a sucking kiss at the base of Clint's neck. Clint made a sound that Phil immediately wanted to hear again. He kissed again, and tentatively pressed his tongue to the thick swirl of black ink.

Clint grunted and his hips bucked, almost dislodging Phil from the sofa completely.

"Good?" Phil asked.

"You have no idea," Clint said thickly. "How did you know? Shit, I didn't know."

"Wild guesswork."

"I like your wild guesswork."

Phil took that as permission to keep on doing it, kissing and licking at the raised black swirls of tattoo. Tasting them and feeling them against his tongue, until Clint was moaning and writhing under him with complete abandon. The tattoo narrowed as it reached the base of Clint's spine, and Phil finally allowed himself to find out how low it really went.

It curled around the base of Clint's tail in a delicate filigree. When Phil tugged Clint's boxers lower, he discovered that it flared out in fine, swirling lines over the smooth rise of Clint's ass before fading away. Phil placed a kiss at the place where Clint's tail met his body, and had to rear back fast to avoid having his noise knocked painfully.

He made a note. The base of Clint's tail was definitely somewhere to return to later, when Clint wasn't muttering about "too close" and "dying here".

This definitely wasn't something he was putting in his official notes on demons. This discovery would go in his private notes. No one else needed to know how sensitive the tattoo was.

Clint's hips were twitching restlessly, as though he was trying to hold back from rubbing against the sofa without much success. If Phil hadn't been sure it would frustrate Clint even more, he would have continued to lick and mouth at the tattoo and given a Clint a helping hand over the edge. Maybe it was something they could try later.

Instead, Phil took a moment to lick one last line up Clint's spine, feeling Clint's breath stutter, before leaning up to kiss the side of his neck.

"Have you decided to stop killing me now?" Clint said.

His voice sounded rough and breathless, and Phil had to swallow before he answered. "How do you want me?"

Clint's smile was wicked and filthy, sending heat rolling through Phil's gut. "I have an idea."

Phil was slightly embarrassed by the strange squeak that emerged from his mouth instead of words.

The soft snicker that Clint barely pretended to stifle didn't help.

"It'll work better if we're naked," Clint said. "Want a hand with that?"

Phil considered the proposal--proposition, really--for less than a second, before sliding down Clint's body again and tugging at the waistband of his boxers. Clint obligingly lifted his hips and Phil carefully pulled them down and away. He sat back on his heels to admire the view; all the beautiful pale red skin and rippling muscle, twitching and glowing because of him.

It was enough to take his breath away and make his heart skip a beat. Clint trusted him this much, to be this vulnerable.

Clint lifted his head and looked over his shoulder with a mock fierce frown. "Hey, I'm dying up here. You can admire me later."

Phil smiled. "I plan to."

Pulling off his pants and helping Clint to roll onto his back without falling off the sofa seemed to take a lot more squirming and body contact than was really necessary. Phil wasn't complaining.

He had to bite his lip when Clint pulled him down into a messy kiss. The hot glide as their cocks met was almost too much for Phil's fragile grasp on his control.

Clint, for once, sensed that it was too much and went still. "Are you ready?"

"Are you?" Phil frowned. "How are we doing this?"

"I have a plan," Clint said, helpfully. "Trust me. Where do you keep your supplies?"

Phil glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom door, which seemed to be miles away. "Nightstand. Top drawer."

Clint chuckled and lifted his hand, holding up a strip of condoms and a tube of lube. "Benefits of fucking a demon."

"It's a good benefit," Phil said.

"You should probably take your time," Clint said, without quite looking at him. "It's been a while."

Phil didn't ask. He took his time, though, kissing and licking all the places he'd discovered would make Clint shudder while he slowly worked him open. The couch cushions were going to be a mess later, but Phil knew a spell or two that would fix them.

When Clint grabbed him and pulled him into another deep kiss, rocking his hips up, Phil got the message. Clint was hot and tight as he slowly pushed in, but Clint's gaze never left his, blue eyes burning bright and intense. There was no pain in them, only an emotion that made Phil's chest warm and his heart race.

It looked like love in a demon's face.

Phil drew in a careful breath when he was buried deep, waiting until Clint nodded before moving.

His first thrust was slow and shallow, torturously careful, and the surprised look in Clint's eyes made Phil's heart ache a little. Keeping his rhythm slow and gentle when all he wanted was to thrust hard, finally lose himself in the orgasm that had been building for what felt like forever, was one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do. He did it, though, for Clint. Because Clint was the one who wanted this to be perfect, and as far as sex was concerned, Phil wanted what Clint wanted.

Clint's hips rose to meet his, legs tightening higher around his hips. Phil leaned down when Clint stretched up, for a kiss that had more intent than skill behind it. The intent was all he needed; the fierce want and need, communicated through lips and gasped breaths and rocking hips.

Something traced a line down Phil's spine, and he lost the rhythm for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Clint's tail waggling over his shoulder.

"What--?" he said.

Clint grinned. "Demon. There's another benefit to fucking a demon we didn't discuss." 

The tail traced a line down Phil's spine again, raising shivers in its wake. It hesitated at the top of his ass, and Phil held his breath.

"If you're not into that, you only have tell me," Clint said. "I just thought...if you are...I can multi-task."

The word "multi-task" had never sounded erotic before. Phil had a feeling he was going to be rethinking that. All he could do was nod mutely.

He didn't ask how the tail became coated in lube before it slid down to circle his hole, teasing with just the right level of firmness. He didn't ask because he didn't need to know, and all thoughts scattered a moment later as Clint rocked his hips again, driving Phil's cock deeper. The combination, tight heat around his cock and questing tail-tip slipping into his hole, almost made Phil come on the spot. He had to bite down on his lip and close his eyes as pleasure welled up and threatened to overwhelm him.

He wanted to make this as good for Clint as it was for him. Going wild like a horny teenager and leaving his lover behind wouldn't be right. Not at this moment, not with this man.

Keeping it slow was difficult, maybe the most difficult thing he'd ever done, but Phil held himself back with will power he didn't know he had. He watched Clint's face as he moved, hungrily taking in every flash of pleasure, every breathless groan. 

When Clint pushed up to drive him harder, Phil deepened his thrusts, loving the way Clint closed his eyes to concentrate completely on the sensations. 

When Clint muttered impatiently about torture and killing him, Phil moved faster, and almost lost his rhythm completely when Clint grunted enthusiastically and his tail did something that made stars dance in front of Phil's eyes.

One of the dangers of fucking a demon: amazing sensations arriving from too many places at once.

Clint's orgasm seemed to take him by surprise when it happened. His eyes opened and he breathed out on a long, shuddering groan as his cock twitched against Phil's stomach. The sudden tightness around Phil's cock, and the tail's slight jerk against his prostate, was more than enough to send Phil over the edge to join him. Pleasure built and rushed through every nerve in his body, more intense than anything he'd ever experienced before. Everything was heat and light, and Phil fell into it with a hoarse shout.

When awareness returned, Phil was still lying on top of Clint, his face buried in Clint's neck. He could feel Clint's hands slowly rubbing up and down his back, the slight roughness more soothing than he'd imagined it could be. 

His body felt heavy and spent, so relaxed he was amazed he hadn't melted off the couch. It took a real effort to lift his head and peer down into Clint's face.

The satisfied smirk Clint directed at him made Phil smile despite his better judgement.

Clever words disappeared. Phil cringed a little inside as he heard himself say, "Was that all right?"

Clint's eyebrows rose. "All right? Phil, you just fucked my brains out so thoroughly, I'm amazed they didn't dribble out on the floor."

"Well, that's an image." Phil hesitated. "You're not regretting anything?"

"Not if we can do that regularly," Clint said. "Maybe not that, exactly. Not every time. I've got a lot of ideas, just so you know. Lots of things I've wondered about and never tried out."

"When you said it's been a while," Phil said, remembering. "How long, exactly?"

"Is it really important?"

Phil thought about it carefully, before giving his answer. "I guess not."

"And I've never done this before."

"What?"

Clint leaned up to brush his lips over the corner of Phil's mouth. "Post-coital cuddling. It's a whole new thing. Trust me; demons aren't big fans of enjoying the moment after the good part's over."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I think I like it," Clint said cautiously. "It's kind of...weird. A good weird. You're heavy, but I don't want you to move yet."

"I'm not squashing you?"

"You're squashing me," Clint said. "But I like that. It feels...safe." He frowned. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Phil smiled. "Your secret is safe with me. Although we're probably not going to be comfortable here for long. It'll get chilly fast, and we're pretty sticky."

Something warm and soft draped over Phil's back. The fleecy blanket from the foot of his bed. He raised an eyebrow, and Clint's smile turned sheepish.

"I'm really enjoying the afterglow," Clint said. "And showers were invented to deal with sticky, right? I've always wanted to try out the sharing a shower thing. It looks like it should be pretty great. Slippery, you know?"

Phil fought the urge to smile fondly, and lost. "I know."

"You've done it before?"

"A few times."

Clint's hand stilled on Phil's back. "Is it something you'd want to try with me? Later? I'll understand if you've done the demon fucking thing and you're ready to move on--"

He made a muffled "mmff" sound as Phil leaned down and stopped the words with a kiss. Not like the desperate, beautifully messy kisses they'd shared earlier, when skin and want had been burning his thoughts away. A slow, deep kiss, trying to express everything he was feeling, everything he was hoping for, in the sweet slide of lips and tongues together.

Clint's eyes were wide and stunned when Phil slowly pulled back. He couldn't resist dropping a quick kiss on the end of Clint's nose.

"Does that answer the question?" Phil asked.

Clint blinked. His red skin was darkening in two spots, high on his cheeks. "Um."

"I'm happy to keep answering it that way," Phil said. "Every day, if that's what it takes. Although I'm hoping you'll start to trust that I'm not going anywhere soon."

"I don't normally get what I want," Clint said. "It's part of the whole demon thing."

"You're not a pure-blooded demon, though. Maybe half-humans get to have what they want."

"And keep it?"

"And keep it."

Clint nodded slowly. "Maybe they do. I'm pretty sure I could live with it, if that happens."

"That's nice to know."

Sleep was dragging at Phil's body, trying to pull him down into her warm embrace. He could feel his thoughts slowing as he lost the battle to stay awake, but he managed to force his eyes to stay open long enough to watch Clint drift away, a small smile at the corners of his mouth.

There were words they hadn't said. Words that would have been important to anyone else, but Phil was learning that love wasn't easy for a demon. Or a half-demon. It was something Clint could feel, something he could show in his eyes and demonstrate with his body, but not something he could talk about. He wasn't wired that way. Maybe he never would be.

Phil didn't need the words, not when he could see the feelings playing out across Clint's face. When he could feel the physical evidence in the perfect ache in his own body, and see the demonstrations in the unexpected acts of kindness Clint couldn't seem to stop himself from doing.

Loving a demon wasn't going to be easy. It wasn't going to be a quiet life.

Phil didn't want a quiet life anymore. He wanted the life he'd found: with magic, with his library, and with Clint. This chaotic, strange life was exactly what he'd been searching for. He drifted to sleep with the promise of that future humming through his mind, and a tail wrapped around his wrist to anchor him.


End file.
